Calumet began to pull the trigger.
The dull, metallic impact of the hammer against empty chambers was the only result.
Denver Ed grinned malignantly as his right hand stole into his vest.
There was a flash of metal as he drew the concealed gun, but before its muzzle could be trained on Calumet the latter pressed the empty weapon in his own hand against the one that Denver Ed was attempting to draw, blocking its egress; while in Calumet's left hand the six-shooter which he had concealed under his own vest roared spitefully within a foot of Denver Ed's chest.
Many in the room saw the expression of surprise in Denver Ed's eye as he pitched forward in a heap at Calumet's feet.

There were others who saw Garvey raise the six-shooter which he had drawn from Calumet's holster.

All heard the hammer click impotently on the empty chambers; saw Calumet's own weapon flash around and cover Garvey; saw the flame-spurt and watched Garvey crumple and sink.
There was a dead silence.

Taggart had not moved.

Calumet's gaze went from the two fallen men and rested on his father's enemy.
"Didn't work," he jeered.